MISSION IMPOSSIBLE to MAN FROM UNCLE
by Dan Bivens
Summary: What will happen when the I.M. Force teams up to stop THRUSH from infiltrating UNCLE in order to assassinate Alexander Waverly? And how will Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo react to their help?
1. Chapter 1

Jim Phelps walked along a commonly traveled thoroughfare in a relaxing resort frequented by families and couples. He is wearing a black-and-white plaid sport coat over a maroon-colored turtleneck shirt.

As he approaches the previously agreed-upon place wherein to get the details of this next I.M.F. mission, a quaint little family-oriented restaurant, called "The Last Stop", Jim stops to look around, then enters the establishment.

Upon walking through the doors, which automatically close behind him, Jim Phelps steps up to a somewhat grungy man bussing tables of their left-behind dishes, silverware, and glasses.

"I hear this is a good place to eat," Jim says to the man, who then reacts with a bit of caution before he answers the two-pronged verbal code.

"Yes, it is. You should try the porterhouse, its our best cut of steak."

Jim nods in further confirmation, at which time the table busser leads him into the kitchen area. There is a moment's hesitation on Jim's part, just before actually entering through the swinging doors. Just to make certain he was not being followed by potential enemy agents, or even observed entering the kitchen area beyond.

Satisfied he was not, in fact, being observed by the dozens of diners sitting at various tables spread throughout the eating area of said restaurant...

"It's in here," said the table busser, as he gestured with one elbow, due to the fact he was carrying a deep, plastic tray of dirty dishes, silverware, and glasses, to a spot just off the kitchen area. "Good luck, Jim."

Jim gives a silent nod to the table busser, then proceeds to step into an area half-hidden from view, whereupon he retrieved a small reel-to-reel tape player, and a large packet of photographs.

After switching on the small reel-to-reel so it would begin playing, Jim pulled the photos from its large envelope. And listened intently to what the pre-recorded voice, a voice he had heard countless times during the beginning of several other missions, had to say about said photos.

"Good morning, Mr. Phelps," the deep voice commenced, even as the first of several photographs was being observed by this head of I.M.F. activities, both at home and abroad. "This is the head of a sister espionage group, called the **U**nited **N**etwork **C**ommand for **L**aw and **E**nforcement, or U.N.C.L.E. His name is Alexander Waverly, Section One, Number One. Our Intel has intercepted an agent of T.H.R.U.S.H., standing for **T**echnological **H**iearchy for the **R**emoval of **U**ndesirables and the **S**ubjugation of **H**umanity. An enemy of not only U.N.C.L.E., but the entire free world, who has revealed, under agressive interrogation, that Mr. Waverly would be killed by a double-agent with an U.N.C.L.E. identity and clearance. You will establish a relationship with these two U.N.C.L.E. agents, Illya Kuryakin, Section Two, Number Two, and Napoleon Solo, Section Two, Number Eleven, as they are the go-to people for the majority of high profile cases, involving T.H.R.U.S.H. almost exclusively. Once contact has been made, you will then bring the full strength of the **I**mpossible **M**issions **F**orce to bear, both inside and outside of the secret New York headquarters of U.N.C.L.E., to both save Alexander Waverly and eliminate the T.H.R.U.S.H. operative or operatives, with extreme prejudice. As always, should your team be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. This tape will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Jim."

No sooner does Jim Phelps switch off the small reel-to-reel, than, exactly five seconds later, an audible hiss could be heard as a thick cloud of acidic smoke arose from said reel-to-reel tape to make it impossible for anyone else to listen to the particulars of this mission.

Once back in his rented, by the black ops arm of the United States government, opulent apartment, where Jim laid down, upon the coffee table before his seated-on-the-plush sofa position, several photographs, with typed-upon-the bottom names and quick descriptions of who they are, and what they do. Retrieved from a leather-bound dossier stamped with the letters I.M.F. upon its almost smooth face.

As Jim goes through them, selecting some, whilst passing on several others...

Bernard "Barney" Collier, a true mechanical and electronics genius, who owns Collier Electronics.

William "Willy" Armitage, a world record-holding weight lifter.

Cinnamin Carter, a top fashion model and actress.

And last, but most certainly not least...

Rollin Hand, an actor, makeup artist, escape artist, magician, and master of disguise.

Then he closes said leather-bound dossier, and sat it, along with a wealth of other photographs, with names, etc., upon the other side of the coffee table.

Jim Phelps was now ready to gather together the I.M. Force individuals who will make up the team, and put together a plan of action.


	2. Chapter 2

Later, at Jim Phelps' rented-by-the government swank apartment...

"What we need to accomplish here, is to replace Alexander Waverly of U.N.C.L.E. with Rollin, in disguise, of course," summed up, after a meeting over the various aspects of their top secret mission. "Then, as soon as the assassin is lulled out into the open, where his identity as a T.H.R.U.S.H. agent is plainly revealed, we move in and replace Rollin with the real Alexander Waverly. Are we all in agreement?"

As nods and verbal confirmations over the plan spread amongst the tight-knit group of super-secret agents, Jim glanced at his watch and ended with, "Good. Let's get started."

Meanwhile, just arriving at the faux tailor shop, wherein the super-secret U.N.C.L.E. New York headquarters could be located...

Stepping out of separate taxis that had arrived at almost the exact same time, an almost ageless Illya Kuryakin met up with a graying-but-still dapper Napoleon Solo, and stepped down toward the tailor shop's main door.

"Another day another dollar, my friend," Napoleon said in his suave manner to a close friend and co-agent.

"Yes," replied Illya in his steadfast fashion, with hardly a half-smirking smile upon his mostly wrinkless face. "I suppose one could categorize this in such a trite manner, Napoleon. Although the goverment's secreted funds pay us considerably more in a per diem manner. Or else neither of us could afford our high-class apartments in the better parts of New York."

Giving an almost comical sideways glare at Illya, Napoleon responded, "It was just a saying, Illya. Not meant to describe our daily wages from good ol' Uncle Sam."

"Let's just go see what new mission Mr. Waverly has for his two best agents, shall we?" said Illya Kuryakin, even as he opened the main door to allow an aged-but-not aging Napoleon Solo to step through.

Once inside, a look from these two well-known, within the confines of New York's U.N.C.L.E., which included the old tailor manning the main entrance into this shell of a business, the steam press was pushed down and two short-but-sharp extra steam handle let those within know that its two top agents were about to enter through the top secret entrance dressed up as a rear dressing room, just past the very real cloth curtain.

After grasping the faked clothing hook and twisting it in a right-angled manner to its seemingly stationary position...

Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo soon made their way along the main corridor, ending with an all-too-brief, as far as Napoleon was concerned, visit with the beautiful young receptionist, whose job it was to hand out upside-down triangular badges that had already been assigned to specific agents.

Handing the one with the number two on it to Illya, who wasted little time clipping it to his sport coat, worn over the turtleneck he always seemed set to wear, "Thank you."

While, for Napoleon, the seductively smiling young beauty at the desk, just outside the entrance to Alexander Waverly's office, she attached the badge with the number eleven on it to an equally seductively smiling Solo.

"Thank you, beautiful."

"You're very welcome, Mr. Solo."

Even as she reached for the button that would unlock and open the dense door to Waverly's office, Illya rolled his eyes in a manner that meant he'd seen this sexual byplay between Napoleon and whichever beautiful woman agent assigned to this reception desk far too many times before.

Stepping through, after which the door would close and secure itself, thanks to another touch of the control button by the still-smiling seductively lady agent positioned outside said office...

"Sit down, gentlemen," instructed Alexander Waverly, seated at the head of the immense, round table-desk, his own upside-down triangle badge emblazoned with the number one upon it, as he flipped through a file situated before him.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin did as they were told, and sat themselves down, side-by-side, at the opposite end of the large, round table-desk.

They waited patiently for him to address them further, never guessing that soon, outside the super-secret New York headquarters for U.N.C.L.E., others would enter to carry out their own mission.

An impossible mission.


	3. Chapter 3

The street scene outside the hidden-from-the world New York U.N.C.L.E. headquarters would soon see visitors in the form of the I.M.F. team. A team that would arrive in an innocuous-looking work truck with a fully hidden-from-sight rear area capable of concealing seven or eight individuals, rather than the few it truly carried.

Pulling over just past the entrance to the faux tailor shop, Jim Phelps, at the driver's seat, and wearing an electrical power worker's uniform, reaches back and raps his knuckles against the solid truck wall behind him.

Such a signal was perfectly repeated by the knuckles of Willy Armitage, also dressed in an exact replica of the electrical power worker's uniform covering Jim in the driver's seat.

Barney Collier is similar dressed and proceeds to open the back doors from within the truck, then slides out an extendable metal ladder, while Willy uses his incredible strength to lift, to each of his shoulders, twin canvas bags seemingly carrying electrical worker's supplies.

Barney swiftly, and nonchalantly, places the extended-twice-its size metal ladder against the side of the building, which secretly houses U.N.C.L.E. HQ.

All while Willy continues to carry two heavier-than-they looked black canvas bags, via heavy duty shoulder straps, up the metal ladder. Directly behind Barney, who was already rapidly climbing the metal ladder.

Once at the top, Barney uses a slim metal bar to unlock the window facing the street, then easily opens it in a quick-but-calculated upward motion.

Next, Barney climbs into an otherwise empty room, with Willy, still exerting all his strength to carry the two black canvas bags, climbing through a couple of moments later.

Once inside said empty room, which seemed like a storage room with numerous cardboard boxes, of varying sizes, situated about its four corners, Barney would get to work with the equipment carried aloft via one of the two canvas bags. Which, at the very moment they were slowly lowered to the wooden floor, produced, from rapidly opened-via-zippers within bags, Rollin Hand, wearing a suit and tie akin to that worn by Alexander Waverly on this particular day.

Also climbing out of the second bag was Cinnamon Carter, in a dark skirt and white shirt, with whom the small-but-important bag of equipment was contained and handed over to Barney: one smallish drill, with a cylindrical-yet-open drill-bit about two inches in diameter; one a specially designed, by Barney, electrical bypass device with one red and one black wire with electrical clips, feeding into a small box with a red light atop it; a larger automatic cutting device using a very sharp saw blade; and, finally, two suction cup clamping devices.

As Barney set to work with the smallish, cylindrical drill, at an already-known position off-center of the wooden floor, silently, thanks to the special design of said drill, burrowing through a two-inch section of said wooden floor...

Cinnamon completed her "costume", by taking a standard P-38 with short, slotted, flash supressor barrel, and holstering it behind the small of her back. In a leather holster positioned there just like all the other female agents currently on-duty throughout the corridors and sections of U.N.C.L.E. New York headquarters...

While Rollin concealed a wig-and-full mask combo beneath the suit coat of his "costume". Then taking out two duplicated upside-down triangular badges from said suit coat's pockets. Giving one to Cinnamon, which she promptly clipped to her white shirt, even as Rollin did the same with his own upside-down triangular badge, but to the pocket of his suit coat...

Even as Barney, having exposed two wires, one red and one black, to which he quickly-yet-cautiously attached the reciprocal clips, which immediately lit the light on the small box.

Barney nodded and said, "That takes care of the alarm system for this section. Now all that needs to be done is to cut through into an official U.N.C.L.E. store room directly below."

Taking the second silent-by-design drill, with the metal saw blade attached, after first attaching the two suction cups against the two foot wide section of floor...

Barney then began cutting a two-foot circle, taking care not to complete said circle before Willy had the chance to grip the attached suction cups via two small-but-sturdy metal handles...

Having cut through, liberating a two-foot circle of wooden floor, Barney laid the second saw aside, next to the first, even as Willy exerted his strength yet again to easily lift away the sawed-through section of wood, which he promptly laid to one side of the now-exposed ceiling entrance into the actual U.N.C.L.E. store room below.

Now it was time for Cinnamon Carter and Rollin Hand to do what they were best at doing...

Infiltrating.

But they would have to do so swiftly, as the T.H.R.U.S.H. double-agent sent to assassinate Alexander Waverly might already be nearing his bloody completion.


	4. Chapter 4

After having been lifted down by Willy Armitage, both Cinnamon Carter and Rollin Hand proceeded out of the U.N.C.L.E. store room and down the hallway, blending into the busy agents coming and going from other doors and other rooms.

That was when Cinnamon saw Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo heading toward her and Rollin that she made certain to bump into Napoleon. Banking on the foreknowledge, from the meeting in the government-held swank apartment earlier, of how much a womanizer Napoleon actually was.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Cinnamon said with a sexy voice and seductive eye contact. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"That's quite alright, my dear," responded Napoleon, with his sexually smirking smile beaming from his slightly wrinkled-from-age face, accented by his graying hair. "If someone is going to bump into me, I'm certainly glad it was someone as beautiful as you."

Once again, Illya, who'd stopped as well, rolled his eyes at the deliberate manner in which Napoleon was engaging this truly lovely lady of U.N.C.L.E. In the twenty-first century, from which both had originated before traveling back in time to the 1960s, such an act could be considered grounds for a sexual harrassment lawsuit.

Although, in this particular case, this beauteous woman certainly seemed to like being "hit on", as those in their future time would have put it. If Illya hadn't known better, he would've thought this woman agent had purposely bumped into Napoleon in order to start up just such a sexually motivated conversation.

As for Rollin Hand, he used this moment to pass by the two top agents of U.N.C.L.E., and not gain any undue notice from Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin. His part of this I.M.F. mission hinged on not being observed by two U.N.C.L.E. agents whom were well experienced at noting anyone who was out of place.

So, while Cinnamon Carter continued to chat it up with Napoleon Solo, Rollin headed straight for the reception desk just outside Alexander Waverly's office. The veritable nerve center for the entire New York HQ for U.N.C.L.E.

"Excuse me," he said to the lovely receptionist, "I have some important data to get to Mr. Waverly. It is of the utmost urgency that he get this above top secret information."

At first, just for a second or two, a wave of suspicion washed over the receptionist, but Rollin did indeed look the part of an agent of U.N.C.L.E. And he did indeed have an official U.N.C.L.E. badge clipped to his suit coat.

"Uhm, okay," she said at last, just before activating the button that unlocked and opened the dense door protecting Alexander Waverly from any acts of violence that might, although very unlikely, erupt in the corridor leading up to this outer office area.

Rollin heaved a sigh of relief, then stepped through, even as the thick metal door closed and relocked itself.

Now it was up to Rollin Hand to complete the mission as it had been laid out in the planning stage, once Jim Phelps had gathered them all together in his opulent apartment, paid for by the black ops funds of the United States government.


	5. Chapter 5

"You there," called out Alexander Waverly, as Rollin Hand stood on the opposite side of the large, circular table-desk. "What are you doing in here?"

"I have some top secret information for you, sir," lied Rollin, very convincingly. "I must hand it only to you, Mr. Waverly."

Falling for such a simplistic ruse, Mr. Waverly sat aside the paperwork already in his hands, and gestured for this unknown agent to approach him. Quickly.

Rollin hurriedly made his way around to the same side as Mr. Waverly. Then, handing over some seemingly important papers, although they were nothing of the sort...

"Here they are, sir."

With Waverly's attention diverted, Rollin used the scant couple of seconds to use his ring's hypodermic nub to inject, through the back of Waverly's neck, enough highly powerful sedative to knock out the leader of the New York U.N.C.L.E. headquarters for as long as three hours.

Hopefully, more than enough time to make ready for the attack of an assassin, probably already infiltrating U.N.C.L.E., just as he and Cinnamon Carter had already done.

After dragging the totally limp, and unconscious, Alexander Waverly off to one side to hide him away in a private bathroom behind a hidden-as-a-wall door...

Then, after closing the wall-door behind him, Rollin Hand quickly pulled out the wig and full mask he'd made before beginning this mission. Pulling it over his own head and hair, Rollin pressed hard at key points along the mask to make it appear to be Alexander Waverly's actual face.

Completely indistinguishable from true skin and hair.

Seating himself at the head of the huge, round table-desk, pretending to look over the same paperwork that the real Alexander Waverly had been looking over a couple of minutes earlier...

"I must see Mr. Waverly on urgent U.N.C.L.E. business," rapidly relayed the faux U.N.C.L.E. agent, who was really a T.H.R.U.S.H. agent in disguise. Complete with an upside-down triangular badge, as realistic as those usually handed out by this beautiful receptionist. A receptionist who was now growing highly suspicious of this second person to demand to see Mr. Waverly because of some secret-yet-urgent matter.

"He's in a meeting with another agent at the moment," she said simply, as she was about to reach for a hidden button that would sound the alarm for all to hear. Bringing help in a matter of seconds that would hold this second supposed U.N.C.L.E. agent, until the truth could be reached.

Noting the suspicious expression on her beauteous face, as well as the surreptitious manner in which she was moving that one hand, to some spot out of sight, and underneath the semi-circular desk at which she sat for the duration of her on-duty hours...

Pft! Pft!

Two silenced shots, from a pulled-from-shoulder holster Lugar, with said silencer already attached, halted the secretive movement of the receptionist, killing her instantly...

Then, working fast as perspiration began to bead and roll down his twisted-with-evil intent face, the T.H.R.U.S.H. agent-in-U.N.C.L.E. disguise hit the button that unlocked and opened the dense metal door separting him from his assassin's errand...

Bursting in, silenced Lugar still in hand, the T.H.R.U.S.H. double-agent shouted, "Long live T.H.R.U.S.H.! Death to U.N.C.L.E.!"

A seemingly suprised faux Alexander Waverly quickly stood, shouting back, "Who the hell are you, sir?"

Immediately met by...

Pft! Pft! Pft!

Three bullets impacted bloodily within a four inch circle around, and directly over, this I.M.F. agent's heart...

"Uhg!"

Dropping him instantly into his high-backed swivel seat. For all intents and purposes, quite dead.

No sooner had the deadly deed been done, than several U.N.C.L.E. agents, led by Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin, all with their P-38s pulled and in hand...

Pft-Krack! Pft-Krack!

The two shots were made by Napoleon and Illya, almost at the self-same moment...

"Uhn!"

Sending the T.H.R.U.S.H. double-agent down to the floor in an equally bloody demise.

"Mr. Waverly..."

Just then, the seemingly dead faux Alexander Waverly stood and ripped off the mask and wig. Revealing himself to be...

"The name's Rollin Hand. The real Alexander Waverly is temporarily sedated in the bathroom over there. As to me being shot in the heart..."

He pulled open his suit coat and vest, as well as the bloody shirt, and revealed a combination bulletproof vest with blood bags attached to give a realistic sight for the T.H.R.U.S.H. agent posing as an U.N.C.L.E. agent.

"Who are you with, Mr. Hand?" Illya asked stoically, as Napoleon still stood in a brief moment of shock and confusion.

"We," interjected Cinnamon Carter, as she pushed her way past the others to stand alongside her comrade-in-arms, "are with the I.M.F...**I**mpossible **M**issions **F**orce. We had Intel that this T.H.R.U.S.H. agent had infiltrated with one purpose in mind: to assassinate the Section One, Number One of U.N.C.L.E. It was our job to infiltrate as well, and prevent the assassination."

"Why didn't you just contact U.N.C.L.E.?" asked Napoleon Solo, his P-38 still in hand, with smoke swirling up from the slotted, flash supressor barrel. "Why not let us handle it?"

"Because," chimed in Rollin Hand, ripped off mask and wig still held in one hand, "the hightened alert status that would be put in effect would simply cause the double-agent to wait it out, fully hidden within the number of U.N.C.L.E. agents that would be swarming around, guns practically drawn. Then, at some later date, when U.N.C.L.E. agents had assumed the Intel to be faulty, and, therefore, letting down their guard..."

"At which point," interjected Cinnamon, "the assassination attempt would be put into full affect again."

Having given the U.N.C.L.E. agents, led by Napoleon and Illya, something to think about, Cinnamon Carter and Rollin Hand left Waverly's office, causing said U.N.C.L.E. agents to part like the proverbial Red Sea in certain specific biblical texts...

Whereupon both would leave the way they came, through the sawed-through ceiling of an actual U.N.C.L.E. store room...

Leaving the real U.N.C.L.E. agents to pick up the proverbial pieces. Starting with retrieving, and reviving, the real Alexander Waverly, as the dead T.H.R.U.S.H. assassin's body was carried out for desposal.

And off would go the I.M.F. team...

Whereupon all would await their next impossible mission.


End file.
